


who cares if we're trashed, got a pocket full of cash we can blow

by 26stars



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Accidental Marriage, F/F, Promptober, Vegas Wedding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2020-12-31 14:35:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21147314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/26stars/pseuds/26stars
Summary: Daisy and Melinda wake up to the worst hangover of their lives and a last-name-altering surpriseFills Promptober day 20 prompt: church bells





	who cares if we're trashed, got a pocket full of cash we can blow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [agentmmayy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/agentmmayy/gifts).

> What can I say, Melinda loves Vegas!

In her rather eventful forty-seven years, Melinda May has been shot, stabbed, beaten, and tortured, but she’s never been run over by a car, and that’s what she’s afraid may have happened in the past twenty-four hours, based on the throbbing throughout her entire body before she opens her eyes.

Prying her eyelids only a millimeter open takes as much effort as a full-body takedown move, and the light that greets her only amplifies the pain in her skull, causing her to immediately grind her eyes closed again with an involuntary groan. Several deep breaths and a determined decision later, Melinda tries again, turning her head away from what must be an enormous window and forcing herself to sit up slowly. The fact that she can accomplish this makes her guess that she did _not_ actually get hit by a car, but the pain manages to increase a little as she finally gets herself upright, her eyes still ground shut. Still groaning dully, Melinda runs her hands over her head, arms, shoulders, torso, and legs, taking stock and feeling for injuries…

_No blood, no wounds, no noticeable fractures…also no clothes…_

Forcing her eyes open again, Melinda squints down at herself. She sees nothing but a thick duvet covering her body, and slowly the rest of the room slides into focus.

_Hotel suite. Somewhere nice._

_Oh, wait a minute…_

Looking towards the other side of the bed, Melinda can only make out a dark head of hair and a tan bare arm, but she’s pretty sure that’s Daisy filling up the space. Reaching over, Melinda catches the girl’s wrist and feels for her pulse point, exhaling slightly as she finds it.

_Okay. So we’re probably both trashed but both breathing. Okay._

Heaving another groan-sigh, Melinda pushes back the duvet and manages to swing her legs off the mattress, planting her feet on what distantly registers as luxurious carpet. The effort of that movement makes the room tilt slightly, so she waits another minute before attempting to get to her feet.

This of course is a spectacular failure, and the resulting thud and yelp as she crashes to the ground seem to awaken Daisy as Melinda curses from the carpet.

“Mmmmmfffff?” Melinda hears from a distance as she rolls onto her stomach and forces herself onto all fours.

“M’okay…” Melinda attempts to reassure her, starting a humiliating crawl towards the bathroom.

The cool tile is a relief against her aching body, and Melinda lies flat on it for a moment before using the closed toilet to haul herself upright again. She doesn’t dare look at her reflection until after she has sat on the floor of a scalding shower for at least twenty minutes and her head is feeling much clearer, but an inspection in the mirror only reveals a single fresh hicky on her chest and the dazed look of someone working through a killer hangover.

Oh, and a pair of diamond earrings which she doesn’t recognize at all…

She slowly bundles herself into a hotel bathrobe and makes use of a provided comb and toothbrush, and before she ventures out of the bathroom, she hears a new series of groans harmonizing with her own. Peering through the doorway, she sees Daisy—_at least it’s only Daisy in that bed_—mimicking her slow choreography from earlier and trying to get herself out of bed.

Spitting out her toothpaste and rinsing her mouth, Melinda attempts a few slow steps back into the bedroom.

“Take it slow,” she calls, her voice sounding painfully loud to her own ears.

“Shhhhhhhh,” Daisy responds peevishly, waving her off. She foregoes attempting to stand in favor of simply sliding out of bed and onto the floor.

Melinda chuckles and moves to the window to pull the curtain and offer them both a little reprieve from what could be afternoon sun for all she knows…

At the sight of the skyline outside the window, however, Melinda halts, the memories of the previous day slowly surfacing.

_Belated FitzSimmons wedding celebration. _

_Everyone meeting up with Bobbi and Hunter in Vegas._

_Piper had some alcohol they’d brought back from space and were saving for just this occasion…_

_…_

_…_

_That’s it. That’s all I’ve got._

_…_

_…_

_Well, that at least would explain this otherworldly hangover…_

Daisy is also barely clothed as she makes her own slow progress towards the bathroom on her hands and knees.

“No more alien alcohol,” Melinda mutters as she pulls the curtain most of the way, cloaking the room in half-darkness.

“Agreed,” Daisy says, dragging herself into the shower stall and curling into the fetal position. “Can you help me turn this on?”

Once Daisy is at least propped upright so that Melinda isn’t worried about her dry-drowning, she dials the spray to hot and leaves Daisy to sober up by osmosis for a while. Still powering through a headache that is easily the worst of her life, Melinda starts sweeping the room—rooms—for clues.

A trail of their discarded clothes from yesterday leads through the bedroom door out to the rest of a _huge_ hotel suite, one with a distinct living area, kitchen, and dining room and another panoramic wall of windows. There’s no sign of their luggage, but Melinda does see Daisy’s bag dropped carelessly on the floor near the door. On the kitchen counter, a hotel information package is set up, and Melinda squints at the hotel logo.

_The Bellagio? Apparently our drunk asses are hella fancy…_

Creeping over to Daisy’s bag, Melinda carries it back to the bedroom and dumps it out on the bed, searching for either of their phones and/or more clues. An assortment of unexpected objects tumble out onto the mattress, including:

  * An empty shot glass stamped with “Treasure Island Hotel and Casino”
  * Three strands of Mardi Gras beads
  * One—_just one?—_of Daisy’s quake gauntlets
  * A pile of brochures that look like they were gleaned from a concierge stand in a single swoop
  * A sparkly tiara that Melinda vaguely remembers being on Jemma’s head at the beginning of the evening
  * A bra that…is _probably _Daisy’s?
  * An entire set of silverware that was definitely used recently
  * Daisy’s wallet
  * Both of their phones
  * Four whole avocados and a mango
  * A pile of receipts
  * Several thousand dollars’ worth of chips from the MGM Grand…

And a manila envelope stamped with the logo for _Tropicana Wedding Chapels, lmtd_.

Picking up her phone in one hand and the envelope in the other, Melinda first checks her messages and sends an update to the multiple concerned people apparently looking for them before dropping her phone back in the pile and opening the envelope.

She’s still staring at its contents when Daisy suddenly steps out of the bathroom.

“Hey…” she calls hesitantly, and Melinda looks up, still disbelieving.

Daisy’s eyes dart between the papers in Melinda’s hands and Melinda’s face. For a moment, the two of them just stand in stunned silence, and then Daisy lifts her left hand.

“I assume that paper will explain this?” she says, pointing to the ring glittering on a very important finger.

Melinda looks back down at the marriage certificate, and then back up at her girlfr—_wife_.

Slowly, she turns the signed and notarized document around to show Daisy.

“Yeah, I think it will.”


End file.
